


Afterlife

by Not__Misha__Collins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Buried Alive, Fred Weasley Lives, Friendship, Gen, PTSD, Post-War, Trauma, fear of the dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not__Misha__Collins/pseuds/Not__Misha__Collins
Summary: Fred shows up at Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes nearly two weeks after the war ends.OR...There's a reason wizards are buried with their wands.





	1. Chapter 1

Fred woke with a gasp in complete darkness, a thin wooden stick gripped in his hand. Oxygen, he’s running out of oxygen. He had a feeling this stick could help him. Just be somewhere else, somewhere open, with oxygen.

 

The moonlight shone upon him as he collapsed to the soft ground. He was in…a cemetery? He coughed from the mass of air he took in, and his eyes burned from the new light. The stick had helped him. Wand, like a magic wand. He stood slowly, his muscles slightly sore from non-use.

‘Fred Weasley: Beloved Son and Brother,’ the headstone in front of him read.

Fred. Why did that name sound familiar? Does he know someone named Fred? Someone who died?

 

An image flashed in his mind: a castle, a crowd of people running around, carrying similar looking wands and firing…spells? Yes, spells. Something else: ginger hair, a big grinning face, a building…a shop, full of strange products. It seemed like a dream, but he knew it had to be real.

‘Take me there,’ he thought.

…

His surroundings changed, but it was still dark. Of course the store would be dark; it was still nighttime. He wished for light, however, as the dark scared him. He felt around, realizing he was in one of the store’s isles. The objects, though he didn’t know what they were, felt familiar, felt safe.

“Lee, is that you?” A voice, familiar voice, called.

Fred stayed quiet as a set of lights lit up the store. It was him: the grinning face and ginger hair.

“Ron?” the man questioned.

Fred ran behind the counter to avoid being seen.

“All right, come on out,” the man spoke, not a hint of a smile on his face, “And I won’t charge you for breaking in.”

Breaking in? Fred peeked around the corner and met the man down the next aisle.

“What kind of sick fucking joke is this?” the man demanded, looking pale.

Joke. That word made him smile.

“Who are you?” the man asked, “And what gives you the right to look like my brother?”

Brother?

“Where did you get those robes, anyway? They look just like…” the man’s eyes widened, “You monster. They ARE his! What the hell did you do?”

He could only shake his head as the man grabbed Fred’s shirt collar.

“Who are you?”

Silence.

“Answer me!”

“I don’t…know,” his voice came out dry and hoarse.

“Don’t. Fuck. With me.”

A name flashed in his mind: Fred. The headstone. Darkness, complete darkness, no oxygen.

“Fred,” he whispered hoarsely, “I’m…Fred?”

He felt a punch to his face and covered his head.

“Who are you?” the man asked again.

“Don’t hit me again.”

The man took Fred’s wand.

“How…how did you get his wand?”

“Wand…brought me here,” Fred started to cough violently.

“No. That’s impossible. Unless…Who put you up to this?”

Fred continued coughing and the man summoned a glass of water with his wand.

“Drink,” the man said, “Then tell me what the hell’s going on.”

He drank the water, his throat and mouth feeling normal again. The man took the empty glass and set it aside.

“I don’t…remember,” his voice still ached like his muscles.

“What DO you remember?”

“Don’t hit me again,” Fred repeated.

“Fine,” the man’s expression seemed to change.

“I woke up, and it was dark, cramped. I was holding…that wand. I needed oxygen, so I…appeared outside.”

“Apparition.”

“Sounds…familiar,” Fred continued, “It was dark, and I saw the moon, and a gravestone.”

“Fred’s.”

“Yes. He’s your brother?”

“Was. Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m George,” the man answered, “How did you get here?”

“Something in my head, like a vision…Of this place, all lit up. And you.”

“Me?”

“Smiling, laughing. You own this store?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry…About your brother.”

George nodded.

“Have you heard of Polyjuice potion?” George asked.

Fred scrunched his face. More visions returned to him.

“Harry,” Fred spoke, “Seven of him. And Mad-Eye, and…your ear.”

“Who told you this?”

“No one. How did Fred…die?”

“In the war.”

War?

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember…” George began.

Pain. Searing, hot pain through his body as he was unable to move, unable to scream.

“Are you all right?” George asked.

“Preservation charm,” Fred remembered, “For funerals?”

“Yeah. It…makes the body…more presentable.”

“Still alive,” Fred recalled, like old thoughts, “Burning…like fire…like acid…everywhere…”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m not dead,” Fred flinched, “Please…please don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Wake up, move, blink, that’s all you have to…”

George froze. Fred began to panic, only able to stare at the other man.

“Twin,” the word entered Fred’s mind, “He has to know that I’m here, that I’m…don’t let them do this! Don’t let them put me in here, please!”

George took a shaky breath as he watched Fred. His eyes began to water as recognition showed on his face.

“You’re Fred,” he said, “You’re my twin brother. And you’re not dead.”

Fred listened carefully.

“Which means…” George continued, “We buried you alive.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’d been two weeks since the war ended, and barely a week since they’d buried Fred. Now, in the Burrow, sat the formerly ‘dead’ twin.

“The preservation charm would be torture on a living human,” Bill said.

All the Weasleys had, of course, been woken up when they heard the news. Fred now had eight mildly familiar people, and George, fawning over him.

“Fred,” the woman who Fred was told was his mother, “I’m so sorry…”

“I’m not angry,” Fred stated.

“It’s probably good that he’s forgotten most of it,” Bill said.

“But he doesn’t remember us,” Ginny sniffled.

“Will he get his memories back?” George asked.

“Most likely. It seems he’s just woken up from his coma," Bill answered. 

“How did no one notice?” Ron asked.

“Doesn’t work like a…muggle…autopsy,” Charlie said, “They don’t…cut…And, his heartbeat and breathing must have been incredibly low. It’s rare, but…”

Fred’s stomach rumbled audibly.

“Oh, of course you’re hungry,” Molly smiled, “How could I not realize…I’ll make you something.”

“Something light,” Bill advised, “Or his body might reject it.”

“I know that, Bill,” she smiled and went off to the kitchen.

“She seems nice,” Fred commented.

“Yeah,” George said, “She is.”

After a couple minutes, Molly emerged with a piece of toast covered in jam, and a glass of water.

“Eat slow,” she commented.

Fred munched the toast slowly as instructed. Strawberry. He likes strawberry.

“Good?” George asked.

Fred nodded.

…

“Don’t leave me,” Fred stated as he stepped into the bathroom.

“I’ll wait outside the door,” George said, “You can talk to me if you want.”

George shut the door after he exited the bathroom.

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a coin in my pocket.”

“Oh?” George asked, “Let me see.”

Fred opened the door and handed George the coin.

“It’s a special coin, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” George answered, “I’ll explain later. Now, get in the shower, okay?”

George heard the faucet turn on.

“Hey, George?”

“What?”

“Are we friends?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Good. I want to be your friend.”

…

“How long until the sun comes up?” Fred asked.

“Four or five hours,” George answered, “Not that anyone can sleep.”

Fred noticed someone in the doorway.

“Percy,” the name slipped oddly from his tongue.

“Could I speak to you?” Percy asked.

“Sure.”

George looked slightly apprehensive.

“You don’t know what I’ve done, do you?”

“Don’t lie to him, Perce,” George warned.

“I’m not going to. Fred, I disowned the family, I abandoned you. But, I came back, during the war, and…you forgave me.”

“You’re not going to use him to ease your guilt!” George said.

“He’s my brother, too!” Percy yelled, “And I’ll remind you that I watched him…”

Percy stopped.

“Don’t fight,” Fred insisted, then patted his bed, “Come sit, Percy.”

The older brother sat on the bed next to Fred.

“You made a joke,” Fred remembered vaguely.

Percy choked, then held Fred in a tight hug.

“I did,” the older brother snickered, “And then, the wall burst, and…you fell…and I left you there.”

“We all thought you were dead,” George spoke.

“is that why I was in a coma?” Fred asked.

“Probably,” George said, “We’re taking you to the hospital in the morning.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Doesn’t seem to be any lasting physical trauma from the charm,” the healer at St. Mungo’s spoke, “Mentally, however, it may take him a while to heal.”  
“And his memory loss?” Arthur asked.  
“Temporary,” the healer answered, “Likely caused by the charm.”  
“So, he’s okay?” Molly asked.  
“For now, yes. However, we should keep an eye on him. And we will have to report this to the Ministry.”  
…  
“Harry,” Fred stated.  
“Fred…you…”  
“I still have your coin.”  
“Yeah,” Harry said, “I’m sorry.”  
“Everyone says that,” Fred said, “I suppose I’ll be angry when I get my memories back, but not now.”  
Harry just nodded.  
“You seem important, Harry.”  
“Do you remember anything about me?”  
“George told me you had a secret club and I was a part of it.”  
“You were a good duelist,” Harry explained the purpose of the club, and the coins.  
“Wow,” Fred smiled, “Who is Vol…Vold…”  
He wouldn’t finish the name, though he didn’t know why.  
“Dark wizard,” Harry said, “Evil. Don’t worry though, he’s dead.”  
“Dead.”  
“You didn’t see it. I was dead…for a bit, but I came back.”  
“Did YOU kill him?”  
“Yep.”  
“That’s incredible!”  
“I suppose,” Harry said, “But really, I just wanted to get it over with. We’d already lost enough, and he…only wanted to kill ME.”  
“Who else was killed?”  
“Lupin and Tonks. They left behind a child.”  
Another memory came to him; a house that appeared out of nowhere, a group of people gathering at a table, Fred and George listening in.  
“The Order,” Fred stated, “We helped in the fight. And…there was a radio station.”  
“Potterwatch, where you got the news out about what was really happening.”  
Something occurred to him.  
“Was I…a good guy?”  
“Of course,” Harry said, “All the time. You always defended me, risked your life in the battle to protect me, to keep Vol…HIM away from Hogwarts.”  
Fred contemplated this.  
“You and George were pretty mischievous back at Hogwarts.”  
“Mischievous?”  
“Yeah. You and George liked to pull pranks and mess with people.”  
“Oh.”  
“It was nothing too bad,” Harry assured him, “You made a lot of joke products.”  
“The shop.”  
“I’ll let George tell you more about it, but it’s yours, too. You bought it together.”  
“George said you’re a good friend of our family, that you’ve saved my father and Ron.”  
“Did he also tell you that I don’t like to brag?” Harry joked.  
“Yeah. He did.”  
…  
Fred couldn’t sleep that night. He lied awake in his hospital bed with the light on, George sleeping on a chair next to him. Just last night, George had hit Fred, and now Fred was told this was his best friend.  
“George?” Fred called.  
George opened his eyes slowly when he saw Fred.  
“I’m tired, George.”  
“Go to sleep, then.”  
“I can’t,” Fred said, “I’m scared. Will you…lay in bed with me?”  
“We haven’t slept in the same bed since we were little.”  
“I don’t mean anything…weird…by it,” Fred defended.  
“I know you didn’t. Scoot over.”  
Fred scooted over to allow George to lay next to him on the small bed.  
“Thank you,” Fred said.  
“Don’t thank me,” George said kindly, “Night, Fred.”  
“Night, George.”  
…  
He could feel the air, warm and smelling of grass and pine. It was light out and the sun shone in through his shut eyelids. He heard crying, sobbing, from a distance. Darkness shut upon him as he heard a loud clicking noise. No more light, no more sound, just…nothing. He couldn’t scream for help or struggle. He was trapped.  
“Fred,” George had gently awakened him.  
Light. Inside the room and outside the window. Fred hugged George tightly.  
“You were yelling,” George said, “And you kicked me.”  
“Sorry.”  
“What happened?”  
“People were crying,” Fred said, “I couldn’t see them, but…Then, it was dark and quiet…”  
“Your…funeral…” George choked, “They…buried…Fred, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry!”  
“It’s okay, George,” Fred hated seeing his brother upset.  
“No,” George sobbed, “We could have killed you! You could have suffocated in there!”  
“I had my wand with me,” Fred pointed out, “Who was there, at my…”  
“Lots of people. Our family, Neville, Lee, Dean, Luna, Angelina, some of our professors.”  
“Do they know that I’m okay?”  
“They will,” George said, “Lee will come by in the morning. If you want, I can contact some of the others.”  
“Yeah,” Fred agreed, “I’d like to see them.”


	4. Chapter 4

Fred’s hospital room became filled with people he didn’t know. George stood next to him, reintroducing them one by one.

“Fred, this is Lee, our friend,” George said, “And Neville, our classmate and generally cool guy.”

Fred was getting more memories, snippets: Fred and George hiring Lee to work at the store, Harry teaching spells in the Room of Requirement, and…Dumbledore.

“Fred, are you okay?” George shook him from his thoughts, then turned to the crowd, “Sorry, guys. His memories are coming back slowly.”

“George, who is Dumbledore?” Fred regretted his question when the mood in the room shifted.

George quietly explained.

“Oh,” Fred answered, “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” George agreed.

Fred grabbed George’s hand tightly as he felt the darkness again.

“Freddy, I’m right here,” George said quietly.

Fred steadied his breathing, then noticed the worried looks on everyone’s face.

“Could we get a minute?” George asked the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” Fred told them.

“It’s all right,” George assured his brother as the others exited the room, “You’re not ready for too many visitors yet.”

“Could I see the shop again?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“I’d like to see it again,” Fred explained, “Without the risk of being punched.”

George chuckled.

“No punching,” he agreed, “I’ll ask if you can be let out for a few hours.”

…

After another physical examination, Fred was allowed to visit the shop with George. The place was more impressive in the daytime.

“This is OUR store,” Fred stated, though saying it felt strange.

“Yeah,” George said, “Harry gave us the money for it and we fixed up this little abandoned building.”

Fred followed his twin inside. He listened as George showed off the products and even demonstrated a few.

“I’ve sent the Pygmy Puffs with Charlie,” George explained, “Before we went into hiding. He’s still got them, keeps them at the Burrow now.”

“Are you putting them back in the shop?”

“I haven’t reopened, Fred.”

“You haven’t?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said we were friends,” George said, “We were best friends, inseparable.”

“I believe you.”

“So, how could I move on? How could I reopen the shop without you?”

Fred watched George start to cry again. Tears don’t belong on his face, Fred thought.

“You never cry,” Fred recalled.

George smiled.

“I wish I could remember you,” Fred said, “I wish I remembered how close we were.”

“You want to see the upstairs?”

“Sure.”

Fred followed George up the stairs, feeling somewhat lightheaded after reaching the top.

“This was your room,” George said.

Fred opened the door and walked in.

“You magic locked it so only you could get in.”

“Hmm.”

“Any memories?”

Fred sat on the bed. The lightheadedness didn’t go away.

“Comfy.”

He leaned onto his back. His head began to spin, but he didn’t want to tell George, didn’t want to worry him.

“Tired, Fred?”

Fred nodded slowly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to fall asleep here,” George advised, “I’ll take you back to the hospital.”

Fred sat up, too quickly, and clutched his head in pain.

“What’s wrong?” George asked.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

“You’re turning pale,” George touched his brother’s forehead, “And you’re burning up.”

“So, take me to the hospital.”

“I’m going to bring someone here. You’re too sick. Just lay down.”

“Don’t go,” Fred layed back down.

“I’ll be just a minute,” George said, “Promise.”

…

“He’s in here,” George told the healer, Jamie, as they entered Fred’s room, “Fred?”

George ran to Fred, who was now completely pale and sweating with his eyes half open.

“Fred?”

“Mmm…”

“Fred, my name is Jamie. I’m going to examine you, okay?”

Fred nodded. Jamie stood by Fred’s bed and waved her wand over him. She dug through her bag and pulled out a blue vial.

“He’s running a fever,” she said, “Fred, could you sit up?”

The sick twin managed to prop himself up a couple of inches before stopping. The healer uncapped the potion and gave it to him to drink.

“You have a viral infection,” she explained, “Most likely something you caught while during your…burial. A preservation charm would have kept the virus from spreading through his bloodstream, but now that it’s worn off…”

“Is he going to be okay?” George asked.

“I believe he has the influenza virus. He’ll need sleep, water, and flu potions, but he’ll be fine within a few days.”

“Good,” George said.

“I’d like to observe him for a few hours, to make sure he takes to the potion well.”

“Okay,” George said, “I’ll get you a chair.”

…

George sat next to Fred like he had in the hospital.

“He can’t sleep unless someone’s in bed next to him,” he explained.

“Understandable,” Jamie remarked, “Though he may be contagious.”

“That’s all right,” George said as he got onto the bed and lied next to his twin, “I’m right here, Freddy.”

Fred closed his eyes and George waited until he heard light snoring. George gently touched Fred’s forehead.

“His fever’s going down,” he whispered.

“Excellent,” the healer whispered back.

…

Later in the night, Jamie had fallen asleep on the chair and George was still awake. He gently woke up the healer, who thanked him and left. George went back to Fred, who opened his eyes just slightly.

“You left me,” the twin spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Fred, you’re…”

“You left me to rot.”

“No. Fred, are you even awake?”

“You were my friend, my best friend, and you let them do this to me.”

“I didn’t…”

He noticed that Fred couldn’t really see him. He’s delirious.

“Fred, you’re not…”

“All of you just watched while I screamed for you to help.”

“We didn’t know.”

“How could you,” Fred accused, “How could you leave me like this!”

These weren’t new thoughts. This must have been what Fred was thinking near the end of the funeral.

“I hate all of you,” Fred said painfully.

**He doesn’t mean it. He’s delirious, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.** Still, those words bit at George.


	5. Chapter 5

Fred woke the next morning to find that Jamie had left, and George wasn’t in his bed.

“Morning Fred,” George said from the hallway, “Had to use the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember waking up last night?” George asked.

“No.”

“Hmm.”

“Did I do something?”

“No, but you were pretty upset,” George explained, “You said some things, not that I can blame you, after…”

“What did I say?” Fred asked.

“You really don’t remember?”

“Please, tell me what I said. It’s clearly making you upset.”

“You said you hated us…because we left you to rot,” George said, “And it’s true.”

“That’s not…I don’t…”

“If we’d just waited a few more days, or a week…”

“I’m not angry, I don’t hate you!”

“Maybe you should,” George stated, “Do you feel any better?”

Fred wanted to push the subject, to correct his brother, but something told him that George was stubborn.

“A bit.”

“I have another flu potion for you to take,” George said, “Then, you’ll need rest. And, the family wants you back at the Burrow. If you WANT to see them, of course.”

“Of course, I want to see them!”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

“All mopey and hurt,” Fred answered, “I’m sorry for what I said!”

“You said you didn’t remember.”

“I don’t, but I hate seeing you hurt and knowing I caused it!”

“You didn’t cause anything,” George said miserably.

…

Once at the Burrow, the Weasleys crowded around Fred. For reasons Ron didn’t know, George seemed to be avoiding his twin. They all felt terrible and perhaps George had taken the brunt of the guilt. After they were told Fred was sick, they stopped bothering him and let him get much needed rest in his room.

“Ron,” Fred called when his younger brother entered his room, “What are you doing here?”

“George says you don’t like being alone.”

“Right.”

“So, why’d he leave you?”

“He’s upset with me.”

“For?”

“Something I apparently uttered while delirious last night.”

“He’s mad at you for being delirious?”

“Seems he took what I said to heart and now he’s avoiding me.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Ron said, “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Don’t!” Fred yelled, then explained, “George needs to deal with his guilt and if that involves being away from me, then so be it.”

“So a bit of guilt makes it okay to completely ignore you?”

“I think it’s more than a bit.”

…

“Stop glaring at me,” George said.

“Stop being a git,” Ron retorted.

“What?”

“Your best friend just came back from the dead and all you can do is sulk around and ignore him? All because he had a damn fever dream?”

“It was a memory,” George defended, “He hates us, he just doesn’t remember.”

“Well, of course he does!” Ron said, “He has every damn right to, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to abandon him. He’s family, George, and you’re being a coward.”

“I’m not…”

“Go talk to him.”

…

Fred was playing with the Pygmy Puffs in Charlie’s room when George came to see him.

“Hello, George,” Fred smiled.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” George said.

“Did Ron put you up to this?”

“Slightly.”

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to,” Fred told him.

“I do want to talk to you,” George added, “I just don’t want you to…”

“I had some more memories of us. Good ones.”

“Yeah?”

“Before we bought the shop, you were worried about taking Harry’s money. We even talked about giving it back.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’m glad we didn’t,” Fred told him, “Are…are you reopening?”

“I wanted to wait until you were okay.”

“You mean my memories?”

“And the flu.”

“All day, I’ve been remembering a lot of the stuff we’ve done together,” Fred commented, “Not just the shop, but from Hogwarts and when we were little.”

“That’s good.”

“I can’t hate you,” he continued, “I’ve thought about it since this morning and…I just can’t.”

“Maybe, when…”

“George, stop! Just stop, please.”

“Sorry.”

Fred set the Puffs back in their pens.

“I’m tired, Georgie,” he patted George on the shoulder as he left for his room.

…

“George, why don’t you bring Fred something?” Molly requested.

“I’ll do it,” Percy interrupted.

Molly handed Percy the dinner plate. He smiled and went up to Fred’s room.

“Mum made dinner,” Percy said.

Fred was curled up in bed, shivering slightly. He turned toward Percy and sat up, wrapping the covers around him. Percy handed Fred his dinner and retrieved another blanket from George’s bed.

“He can have it back tonight,” Percy covered his brother with the second blanket.

“’Ank ‘ou,” Fred stuffed food in his mouth, “’Ith good.”

“Yeah,” Percy said, “I... I’m glad you’re…with us.”

“’E too,” Fred smiled, his mouth full.

“Could I tell you something?”

“Sure,” the younger brother stopped eating.

“You were the first one to forgive me,” Percy said, “After I came back, but I barely got to see you before…”

“You shielded me,” Fred recalled, “I remember hearing you.”

“We had to leave,” Percy said, “It wasn’t safe and…I thought you were dead.”

“I know. You said that. It’s okay.”

“How much do you remember about me?”

“You were kind of stuck up,” Fred began, “And George and I liked to mess with you.”

Percy laughed, “You’re right. I needed to lighten up a bit.”

“No you don’t,” Fred corrected, “I think it’s just who you are, Perce.”

“I guess.”

Fred continued eating.

…

“Did you need me to sleep next to you tonight?” George asked.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Fred answered.

“Right.”

“I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Night, Fred.”

“Night, George.”


	6. Chapter 6

George clutched the sides of the toilet as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Sweat covered his face and his hands shook.

“George,” he heard Fred speak next to him.

“Fre…” George began, then threw up again.

“Percy’s sick, too.”

“Wonderful,” George muttered, sarcastic and miserable.

Fred helped George lean back against the wall.

“I’ll get one of the flu potions.”

“Those are yours.”

“I’ll get more later,” Fred assured his twin, “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

…

“Fred, dear, you don’t have to take care of your brothers,” Molly said.

“They’re sick because of me,” Fred poured a bottle of potion into a pot of soup, “I want to help them.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said.

“Thank you,” Fred stirred the soup.

“I’ll make them some tea.”

…

“I put some flu potion in the soup,” Fred told George, “Anti-nausea for yours.”

“Mum brought some tea,” George said, “Ginny’s not sick, is she? Or Ron, or Charlie?”

“No to Charlie and Ginny,” Fred answered, “Ron is a little sick, though. Charlie and Ginny have been given virus prevention potions.”

“And you?”

“Much better.”

“Just like when we were kids,” George reminisced, “Everyone’s sick all at once.”

“George?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you having nightmares?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

George sighed, “We all do, Freddie. The war just ended. We’re not used to being ‘safe.’ You should see Harry.”

“What’s wrong with Harry?”

“He won’t talk to anyone. Stays holed up in the Grimmuald place, hiding from the press, mostly. He can’t sleep, he probably isn’t eating…”

“Oh.”

“We’ll be okay,” George assured his twin, “Just give us some time.”

“I hope so.”

…

“Mum, Fred’s in the paper,” Ginny announced.

“I know, dear,” Molly said.

Fred, George, Percy and Ron were finally well enough to eat dinner with the rest of the family. A large majority of Fred’s memories had returned since the preservation charm wore off after he showed up at the shop just two weeks ago, though a few gaps remained.

“Could I see?” Fred asked.

Ginny passed him the paper. Fred noticed his photo on the front page with the headline: ‘Fred Weasley: Back from the Dead?”

“One of those reporters tried to get a quote out of us,” Arthur said, “Refused to talk to any of them.”

“They tried to bother Harry and Hermione,” Ginny said, “Except that Hermione’s in Australia. Long story.”

Fred folded the paper without reading it.

“Hey, Mum?” Fred asked.

“Yes?”

“Could I go see Bill and Fleur tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

…

“Good thing you floo’d here,” Bill said, “Wouldn’t want the press following you.”

“Did they bother you, too?”

“Yeah. No worries, though. Glad you’re here. Hungry?”

“Not right now,” Fred answered, “How is Fleur?”

“Fine. She’s sleeping in.”

“I am not asleep,” Fleur announced as she entered the room, rubbing her eyes, “Ah, Fred. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“That is good,” she tried to smile but whimpered instead.

“Fleur?” Fred asked.

She grabbed Fred into a hug.

“We were so sure you were gone!” she cried, “Bill would not leave his room for days!”

“Fleur…” Bill interrupted.

“It is true!”

“Fred, it’s not…” Bill started, “You’re my little brother, of course I was…”

“I get it,” Fred comforted, “You used to babysit George and I.”

“Yeah. You remember?”

“Yep. You let us get away with everything.”

“I did not,” Bill smirked.

“You let the children get away with everything?” Fleur asked.

“Just his brothers,” Fred answered.

“They have puppy dog eyes,” Bill defended, “All of them. How can I say no?”

Fred gave a fake pouting face, making Bill and Fleur laugh.

…

“Where does Harry live?” Fred asked.

“Hmm?” Ron asked, “Oh. Grimmuald. Why?”

“I want to go see him. George says he won’t talk to anyone.”

“Okay, we can go,” Ron said, “I’m worried, too. Oh, and Hermione’s back with her parents.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Yeah. I wrote her.”

…

Hermione had already been at Grimmuald Place when Ron arrived with the twins. George didn’t want to go, as he was still a little sick, but Fred insisted.

“Fred!” Hermione hugged the twin, “Harry is…upstairs.”

“Is he okay?” George asked.

“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Hermione said, “Maybe he’ll talk to you, I don’t know.”

Fred followed the other three up the stairs and to the room Harry was in. He looked awful: dirty hair, bags under his eyes, and thin, but not much thinner than the last time Fred had seen him. he hadn’t noticed before, but Harry must not have been eating lately.

“Harry?” Ron asked.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Harry turned away and pulled the blankets tightly over him.

“It was my idea to come see you,” Fred spoke, “You’ve become isolated.”

“Do you remember the war yet?” Harry asked.

“Mostly.”

“I still see HIM in my dreams. How can it be over? Six years, I’ve been in constant danger, expected to kill…How can it just be…finished?”

“I know what you mean,” Ron said, “No one expects you to…”

“They do!” Harry corrected, “Why am I expected to do interviews, to go out and give fucking speeches!”

“We don’t expect that,” Hermione said.

“And, who gives a shit what those fucking reporters say,” Ron added, “You should have seen what they said about Fred.”

Harry faced them.

“What did they say about you, Fred?”

“More like they implied it,” Fred answered, “But, essentially, they think it was a publicity stunt.”

“Like you’d ever do that,” George scoffed.

“George, it’s okay,” Fred assured his brother.

“No, it isn’t! It’s rubbish, it’s slander!”

Fred sighed.

“Getting buried is a bit much for a stunt, don’t you think?” he joked.

“People won’t take you seriously, Fred! They’ll think you’re a liar.”

“The truth will come out eventually,” Fred assured him, “Just relax, okay? Besides, we’re not here to discuss me.”

George grumbled but dropped the topic.

“Come stay at the Burrow with us,” Ron said, “So you don’t have to be alone.”

“You’ve asked me that a million times,” Harry said.

“You shouldn’t deal with this alone,” Fred spoke.

“Everyone misses you,” George said.

“Especially Gin,” Fred finished.

They were in synch. Fred gave a smile to George.

“All right,” Harry said, “Let me pack. And, uh, shower.”

George looked at Fred, surprised.

…

**“Mrs. Weasley, you were his family,” Harry spoke, “I can’t speak at his…You knew him better than I did.”**

**The charm still coursed through his veins, burning. He felt his hair being messed with.**

**“George!” Molly scolded.**

**“He looks so unnatural with slicked hair,” George defended.**

**They left him. Alone. Always alone, always dark.**

 

Fred opened his eyes. Dark but at least he could move.

“George,” he called.

Snoring. Fred launched his pillow at his brother, which caused him to stir.

“Mmm.”

“George, wake up!”

“Fred? Oh, shit! Fred, I’m sorry!”

George turned the lights on with his wand.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Fred snapped.

“Fred…”

“I lied in silent darkness, semi-conscious and in pain for four days!” Fred continued, his heart racing, “It’s not just a little fear, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Do you?” Fred yelled, “I don’t fucking think you do!”

George flinched. He’s not defending himself, Fred realized. Fred tried to calm his breathing and stop the tears forming in his eyes. He was angry, not at George directly, but his brother just happened to be there.

“Say something!” Fred demanded, “Be angry at me!”

His breathing slowed as he saw that his brother was just taking the abuse. Fred could probably hit him and George would just take it.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Fred said.

“My fault for putting out the lights.”

“No, just…yell at me back. It’s okay.”

“I’m not angry. I shut off the lights out of habit. I should have remembered.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now, I think.”

He’d started to cry and hid his face in his hands. George sat next to him.

“It’s okay to defend yourself, you know,” Fred assured him, “You would never stand for me yelling at you.”

George began rubbing Fred’s back.

“I just want us to be normal again,” Fred explained, “We argued all the time, remember?”

“That was before…”

“Before you buried me alive?”

George quickly stood up.

“Quit rubbing it in my face! Don’t you think I feel shit enough? I get it! Every fucking day, I have to be reminded, every time I see you! I can’t take it anymore!”

Fred was silent as he waited for George to finish.

“It’s therapeutic, isn’t it?” Fred smiled.

“You tricked me,” George realized.

“Sort of. I really was upset.”

“Fred, I’m…”

“Don’t apologize,” Fred assured him, “I doubt you’ll ever forgive yourself. How many times have I told you I don’t blame you? The people who prepared my body should have checked more thoroughly before giving me that damn charm.”

“What did it feel like?”

“I told you…acid and fire.”

“The whole time?” George asked, “For nearly a week, day and night?”

“Yes,” Fred answered, “It wasn’t bad at first, until I felt it hit my heart. I could feel it spread though my bloodstream, I wanted to vomit. After a while, though, I got used to the pain, like I’d never felt anything else.”

“Did you really hate us?”

“At the time, yes. But, you have to understand…I was scared and in a lot of pain. I wasn’t thinking right, I was angry.”

“And now?”

“No, of course not. I love you, Georgie. You’re my family. I don’t want you to resent me.”

“Resent YOU?” George scoffed.

“Yes. If just seeing me makes you feel guilty…”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes you did,” Fred corrected, “And that’s okay. Just…please talk to me, tell me what’s bothering you. We were best friends before all this, we told each other everything. Now, there’s a rift between us.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry anymore,” Fred requested, “Whatever it is you think you’re guilty of, you’re forgiven, okay?”

“I…I can’t just…”

“Try. Georgie, please. Try to forgive yourself, for me.”

“Okay, Freddie.”


End file.
